Defining is Confining
by BlueCheeseBallsack
Summary: MelloxNear MelloxMatt, Mello is confused about his feelings for Near.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

It was all a blur.

My gaze shifted lazily to the thin, white sheet that rested loosely against my body. I was in a bed; my bed, I assumed. I blinked, hoping it would aid my vision to focus.

Suffice to say, it didn't.

I kept blinking profusely, trying to escape the haze. I didn't recall having a drink last night, plus I hadn't been able to get my hands on any type of alcoholic beverage due to Roger cracking down on my curfew. I could only assume he had begun to suspect that I wasn't truly, "just going on walks to clear my head". Well, on the contrary, it wasn't completely a lie. I did clear my head, just in a different sense than he'd expected.

I sat up and propped my elbows on my knees. My eyes scanned the room, desperately searching for a sense of familiarity. Fear briskly began to snake up my back as I realized, from what little I could see, that the color contrast wasn't familiar at all. The room had emptiness about it, in which my own room didn't have in the least. I shared a room with Matt and if anything, it was quite crowded. Matt had made the decision to paint our room a gaudy red color and pin a ridiculous amount of posters of his favorite video games all over the walls. As far as what occupied the walking space, our room contained a flat screen television that rested on an entertainment center that stood about three and a half feet from the ground, a coffee table, a black leather couch, and two twin-sized beds that rested on either side of the room, barely grazing the extra furniture that sat in between. The description of my own room contradicted that of the room I was sitting in currently. The walls were white and undecorated and the room seemed much larger (though that could have been due to the lack of furniture). There was an object that rested against the right side of the room, but I couldn't focus enough to decipher what exactly it was.

I gave up contemplating what the object was after a moment, and then turned my attention back to the bed I currently rested on. I brushed my hand lightly against the sheets. As I did, I took note of how large the bed was, maybe king-sized. As my hand slid farther to the left, I began to feel warmth underneath the sheets. I also realized that the elevation was beginning to increase slightly, indicating that there was something accompanying me in the bed, possibly someone.

Who the hell could have slipped in bed with me? Well, considering that this wasn't my room, who the hell did _I _slip into bed with?

I cautiously wrapped my fingers around a section of the sheet, and gripping it lightly, I began to pull at it. As the sheet began to shy away from the object underneath, a tuft of white hair sprouted at the top of the sheet.

Hairs? So it is a person…

I continued the painfully slow pace in which I was removing the sheets with and began to note what revealed beneath: Pale, soft skin that accompanied a face with a clear, porcelain complexion, and a white shirt collar that rested against the individual's neck.

My mind reeled, subconsciously searching for the possible identity of the person. I continued to pull at the sheet, yielding even more mid-length of the person's arms and abruptly stopping and releasing my grip on the sheet at the person's waist.

White hair, white clothing, white room, white sheets, how the _fucking _hell did I slip into my worst enemy's bed?

I felt heat rise to my face, unsure whether it was due to anger or embarrassment… or both.

Absentmindedly, I spoke, "Near, what the _hell _are you doing in here?"

Near sat up slowly and looked at me with possibly the creepiest fucking grin I'd ever seen him wear; actually _anyone _wear.

"What am I doing here? This is my room Mello dearest," Near spoke calmly with a hint of humor edged in his usually monotone voice.

I sat there dumbstruck and flustered, trying to make sense of the situation. Countless questions circled in my head and one that I didn't even have in mind slipped from my tongue, "Why are your clothes still on?"

_**What?**_

Near winked, seemingly expecting the outburst, "Well, Roger is here," he giggled, "Unless you want him to watch…"

"Of course I do. You know I'm into that shit," I heard my voice say in a husky, seductive tone.

_**WHAT…**_

Near smirked devilishly, "I thought you'd say that." He lifted up the covers, revealing Roger's old ass in only a red leather mini-skirt.

_**THE…**_

The over-whelming aroma of bacon, eggs, and sausage filled the air. Watari suddenly appeared at the bedside with a cart that was carrying breakfast foods. "I came to watch."

_**FUCK?!**_

"Alright," Near rubbed his hands together rapidly as if he were heating them up for a task, "Let's get started."

_**No.**_

Near ripped his white pajama shirt off, causing the buttons to fly in different directions.

_**No, no, no, no, no, no, no.**_

Watari copied Near's actions, then began roughly rubbing his nipples with his pinkies. His eyes were protruded from their sockets and he had a very disturbing, determined look plastered on his face.

_**NO, NO, STOP, NO, NO.**_

Roger grinned in an equally disturbing manner. He propped himself up and unexpectedly swung his legs over me, straddling me. He leaned down slowly and brushed his lips against my left ear. "Breakfast is ready, Mello," he cooed in a voice that did not belong to him.

_**WHAT?! EW, FUCK OFF OLD MAN.**_

Watari opened the door of the cart, and then pulled out a container of whipped cream. He silently handed it to Roger, who accepted it and gratefully nodded at Watari. "I hope I'm as flexible as I used to be," Roger commented, grinning that fucked up grin that seemed to be quite popular among the three.

"NOOOOO!" I screeched, shoving him off.

That's when my eyes fluttered open.

"What?" I asked aloud, confused as all hell. I sat up and recognized my own room.

"A dream…" I breathed in relief and chuckled lightly, "of course, _just_ a dream…"

"WHAT THE HELL MELLO?" I heard Matt's voice whine loudly in frustration. I turned to my right to see my best friend on my bed. He rubbed his head and his face was contorted in pain. I came to the conclusion that I subconsciously did this to him, "Oh… sorry bout' that Matt… I had a nightmare."

"A nightmare?" Matt perplexed, "Was it another of those weird dreams about plowing Near?" he seemed, evidently, very amused by the thought.

"Agh, don't put it that way!" I'm pretty sure at that moment my face was bright red from the truth in his deduction. I, embarrassingly enough, had strange dreams about Near occasionally; though, I swear on my life that I didn't enjoy them in the least. I had shared them with Matt after he wouldn't stop bugging me about it whenever I woke up like I did in my current state. I was sincerely regretting it.

"What're you doing on my bed anyways?"

"Well, I brought you breakfast since you wouldn't wake up. If I hadn't you would have missed it because the kitchen was already closing up," he motioned towards a plate that rested on the coffee table, which carried eggs, bacon, and sausages.

That explained the vividness of my dream.

"Thanks Matt," I ruffled his bright red hair playfully, causing him to groan. He absolutely hated it when I messed up his hair, yet the reaction was so amusingly adorable that I couldn't help myself. God forbid I say that to his face, though. Knowing him he'd use that "cuteness" to his advantage.

I reluctantly removed my hand from his hair, "Now go play your gay games before I feel like I need to compensate for breakfast." I hated to carry the burden of feeling like I needed to repay someone.

"Hey!" Matt pouted, puckering out his bottom lip, "Tomb Raider is so not gay. Lara Crouft looks so hot in the newest one!"

I snorted, successfully not falling prey to his cute facade, "It's pretty sad that you're oogling over fictional characters that are animated, no less."

"Feh, whatevs. It's a better alternative than pursuing girls at this house that all seem to hate my guts, even though I did nothing to them."

"If it's so difficult to get girls, then maybe you should broaden your views. Open up that smart mind of yours. You won't be happy unless you dig deeper. You know that old saying, 'If you do what you always do, you will get what you've always gotten'." I honestly felt pretty damn cheesy quoting things that were overused, but oh well. It helped me get the point across.

"What, like... switch to the other team?" Matt managed in disbelief.

I shrugged, ignoring his repudiation, "Not necessarily, but if that's what you wanna do, then more power to ya'."

"N-no!" Matt stammered, "I'm not gay!"

The poor kid was still in denial with himself despite the fact that he was so painstakingly obvious; it was almost laughable, really. The more he denies, the more guilty he looks, though he fails to understand that. I was tempted to tease him, but that would be a little too cruel at this point; so I decided that reasoning with him would be the most logical option.

"Matt, even if you were, I wouldn't give a flying fuck. I've thought about being '_gay_' myself. I don't give two shits if it seems 'immoral' to others because thats just about as much bullshit as the bible they'd inferred that from. If you wanna do something that makes you happy, then by all means go for it. If something is good to you, then it is good. That's the glorious logic of morals; it's all opinion. Thats why it's sad that our society is sculpted from very shitty ones."

Matt looked a little dumbfounded from my little speech, which was quite satisfactory on my part.

There was an awkward silence for a few moments, before Matt decided to break it. "Mels... are you gay then?"

I sighed, hoping he wasn't hanging on the possibility of that so much that he failed to grasp the concept of the matter. "Matt, if you wanna put it that way, then yes. Males are generally much easier for me to get a long with and they can be just as attractive as women can be."

Matt responded with a contemplative noise and then pulled his orange-tinted goggles from his eyes and dropped them so that they rested loosely around his neck.

The action gave me a great view of his emerald-green eyes, which were clouded with emotion. He was staring down at his lap with his eyebrows furrowed in frustration.

Whether my words made him wake up and smell the roses or not, it gave me comfort to know that he was at least thinking about it. It was a start, if anything.

"Well..." he started, "I suppose you're right."

Hah. I loved being right. Knowing it was satisfying, but being told it was just music to my ears.

"When am I not?" I boasted rhetorically, but doubted he'd take it that way.

Surely enough, he snorted with amusement, "I'd answer that, but that'd take ages to thoroughly contradict."

I frowned, "As if." I couldn't really think of a better comeback at that moment.

"Uh huh... your breakfast is gonna get cold."

"Oh yeah, forgot about that," I hopped out of bed and made my way over to the couch.

"Oh and here." Just as he said that I felt something hit the back of my head. I turned to glare at Matt's grinning face, and then lowered my gaze to see a hershey's chocolate bar on the floor.

He knew me all too well.

I leaned down to pick it up. "That took a lot of convincing on my part, Roger didn't even wanna give it to me since he knew I'd probably just give it to you. Can't blame the guy though considering you polished of the chocolate supply last time it was sent in. Either way, I managed with some bullshit excuse about having a low blood sugar."

I smirked, grateful that Matt would go to the trouble of feeding my addiction.

"Thanks... I owe you one," I muttered the last part out aversely.

"I know," Matt said with a smug look on his face.

Damn him.

I sat down on the couch and picked up the fork that rested next to my plate. I had to give Matt credit, I was pretty much on Roger's shit list, and the fact that he'd managed to do that means he truly did put a lot of effort into convincing him. Did he really care that much? Why? I know I'm his best friend, but if I were him, or even in my current situation, I probably wouldn't go to the trouble of doing little extras. I'd just focus on the bare minimals in which I'd need to sustain life, such as the breakfast he brought me. The chocolate, I could live without, but it did make me happy and he knew that.

Huh.

* * *

[Time lapse: Late afternoon]

I walked into the main room of the Wammy house where the students gathered to visit, watch tv, play board games, ecetera; and the first thing, or should I say, _person, _that came into view was Near. He was looking the same, as usual, in white pajamas with his curly white locks in a tangled mess. It pissed me off for some reason, how habitual he was. Everything was a never-ending routine for him, it seemed so damn boring! He was so boring! I swear, even if he wasn't my rival in being L's successor I would still hate his guts. The kid was so emotionless, I mean it served a purpose in a sense that it didn't get in the way with his deductive reasoning, but the way he acted seemed so... _inhuman_ for lack of a better word. Words never seemed to phase him, I mean I've tried time and time again to get under his skin but he never cracked.

Not once.

I wonder what he makes of me, what he's thinking when he gives me that blank fucking stare. Maybe things do get to him... maybe he's just a damn good actor. If that's the case the bastard should just pursuit a career in theatre arts or some shit. With his talent he'd probably make the salary of L, if not more.

Then again...

I want him to be in this competition... I need a challenge. If he wasn't here I'd be taking the easy way out. That wouldn't do. I need to confirm that I _am_ the best. I'll prove to him. I'll prove that I don't need to be emotionless to be the world's best detective. I walked over to Near, already furious despite the lack of words exchanged. I _will_ get under his skin. Just like he can do to me.

"Hey shitface."

Near looked up from the white puzzle he was working on. I didn't see why the hell he kept completing the damn thing over and over again, but then again I didn't see why he did half the shit he did.

"Yes?" he said in his usual monotone voice.

Heh. He responded to it. What a dumb-ass.

"Why're you always doing that damn puzzle?"

Near glanced down at the puzzle then returned his gaze to Mello. "Why do you ask?"

"I'll ask the questions, freak. You, answer."

"Well..." Near started, continuing his puzzle, not even having to examine each piece for longer than a moment before placing it in it's correct position, "When you solve a case on a person, such as the Kira case, you don't get the privilege of knowing the person right off the bat like you would if it were something more minor. In a more minor case, you tend to have suspects to branch off from. It makes the deduction process much more easy. Though, as L, you do not get the privilege of an easy task. Whether L currently has a suspect for the Kira case or not, he still had to begin the case blindly. It's almost unfathomable, really. There are roughly seven billion people in this world, and Kira is a world-wide case. Even when he narrows it down, he still has an unthinkable amount of the population left over to cancel out one by one. And what if by chance he made the mistake of canceling out the actual perpetrator? That just wouldn't do. Mistakes cannot be made."

What is this kid getting at...?

"That being said, it will help you understand why I repeat the process of arranging these pieces correctly. This puzzle is white and contains about then thousand pieces. Unlike an ordinary puzzle, you do not get the privilege of having pieces of the actual image printed on them. This makes the process exceedingly more difficult, because you don't know what you're aiming for. For me, personally, it's practice. I want to see what it's like to be in L's place, though it cannot compare to what L has solved and is currently solving. I just am seeing the gist of it. Like L is blindly working on the Kira Case without having much information to start with whatsoever regarding Kira himself, I am blindly putting together a puzzle without having any information on where to begin with it. The more I solve it, the more confident I feel in my deductions somehow and naturally I continue to get better the more I do it."

What the hell? I scoffed, "Of course you'd get better, that's like with anything. The more you practice the better you get, though that can't even compare to what L's going through. I find it pathetic that you try to match up to him."

If the statement effected Near in anyway, he didn't show it, he just continued placing pieces. "On the contrary, Mello, I'm not trying to match up with him. I'm just delving into his work a little bit is all. Maybe not directly, but it is related. Regardless, I have no intention of arguing about something I can't fully explain myself. It's just a feeling..." he placed the last remaining piece on the board and then grasped the sides and lifted it from the ground, dumping it carelessly.

I watched the pieces scatter across the floor, somewhat in a trance by his actions.

He placed the board back on the ground, wordlessly restarting the puzzle all over again.

* * *

**I dunno if I'm finished with this as a chapter yet... either way I'll probably continue if I get feedback... ;)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Short Chapter, Near's P.O.V. Review = Quicker Updates ;)**

* * *

I continued to place the white jigsaw pieces in their appropriate positions while making an endeavor to ignore the piercing gaze I was receiving from the hot-tempered blond. Though, I didn't thoroughly understand why he held so much resentment towards me; all I know is that his hatred is apparently derived from the fact that I am a place above him in the running to become L's successor. This is where my discernment runs flaccid.

Why does he allow himself to be driven by emotion so much so that it deters himself from accomplishing his primary objective?

This is how most people are so it may be peculiar for me to be questioning why something that commonly occurs among people, happens to one specific individual. My reasoning for my inquisition is quite simple: I expect more from him.

Someone that is as intelligent and devoted to his aim as he, you would think he would try a little bit harder to keep a level head. He acts recklessly, rarely thoroughly contemplating the possible consequences of his actions. He gets himself into so much unnecessary trouble at the orphanage for picking fights with random students constantly. I believe that all of his hatred and anger will one day be the death of him.

It's pitiful, really.

I wouldn't mind being a comrade of his… a "friend" more rather. I believe that's what people tend to call the peers that they become close to. I'd like to work with him, if anything. I believe we would make a great team; he and I. If only he wasn't such a pain in the— **THWACK**

I felt a strong force hit me swiftly in the side, causing me to fall on my side a few feet from my original spot. I languidly blinked and placed a hand on my throbbing side, despite the fact that I was truly taken aback by the kick. It was a normal advance for Mello to engage in, but I seemed to have let my guard down by mistake. It's not as if I haven't taken the beating, because I certainly have had enough nurse visits on record to justify otherwise; but it was the fact that I was unprepared. How… out of character of myself…

"You think you're so god damn superior to me…" I began to sit up and opened my mouth to retort, but was cut off by his fist grasping the collar of my shirt and hoisting me up from the ground. "You and your presumptuous, know-it-all, overconfident bullshit. How bout' you actually grow a pair of balls and fight back?"

I didn't let his ignorance get to me. I'm above that. If he insists on insulting me… I might as well fight back verbally. If I continue to keep silent he will begin to believe I fear him; which I can assure you is far from the case.

"For one, _Mello_, I don't intend on engaging in a physical dispute. Secondly, I can't simply grow a pair of balls since it's something I already have. Even if I lacked that appendage it would be physically impossible to do so on a whim."

Mello's scowl deepened, "You little fuckin' smart-ass, I know you're socially deprived but I know sure as hell you knew what the fuck I was talking about," he began to stretch back his fist, readying for another punch.

"You know Mello, you say "fuck" so much it makes me wonder if you're actually implying something," I stated slyly, suddenly feeling confident in my comebacks. I let a smug grin play at the corners of my lips. I prepared myself for another hit but was baffled to find that he just stopped in his tracks with his fist still raised. His face began to redden with each passing second, and he looked quite mortified to say the least. My stoic expression began to falter to an expression of surprise.

Why is he so… flustered? What on earth is going through his head?

"I…" he started as he made an unconvincing attempt to furrow his eyebrows angrily. His face remained the color of a tomato, "That is…!" he sputtered, cutting himself off.

I raised an eyebrow questioningly as a sign to silently prod the rest of the sentence out of him.

He tilted his head downwards in defeat and let out a long, shaky breath. "DAMNIT!"

I, naturally, jumped; startled at the outburst. Without another glance, he threw me out of his grasp and fled the main room. The disturbance caught the attention of the rest of the students in the room and the unsettling sound of whispers began resonating against the walls. I felt the familiar uncomfortable receptivity of several pairs of eyes groping my very being. I shuddered and hastily regained my composure, returning to previous spot on the carpet beside my puzzle. As I restarted my puzzle, once again, I had one very pestering question in mind.

What the hell made Mello act like a flustered schoolgirl?


End file.
